


If The Price Is Right

by BearlyWriting



Series: SladeRobin Weekend 2020 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Condoms, Couch Sex, Day 1: Highest Bidder, M/M, SladeRobin Weekend Mini-Event 2020, but only briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: '“And tonight’s top prize - a whole night with Bruce Wayne’s lovely son - goes to…Slade Wilson."The auction is a bit of a joke, until it isn't.For the SladeRobin Weekend prompt Highest Bidder.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: SladeRobin Weekend 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716973
Comments: 22
Kudos: 250
Collections: SladeRobin Weekend 2020





	If The Price Is Right

**Author's Note:**

> This only barely fills the prompt lol but...I hope you enjoy the porn at least ;)

“And tonight’s top prize - a whole night with Bruce Wayne’s lovely son - goes to…”

Selina pauses dramatically, drawing the tension out. It’s the most contested prize, certainly the one that brings in the most money even if It’s meant to be a bit of a joke - a contest in bragging rights more than anything else. Not that Dick thinks anyone ever takes it seriously, although the amount of money involved might warrant more care than has ever been shown in Bruce Wayne’s billionaire circle. Certainly no one actually expects to spend the night with Bruce Wayne’s eldest son. Not if they want to have an intact business relationship at the end of it.

Or, they _do_ expect Dick to spend the night with them - but only at the gala. If anyone expects more than that - well, all Dick signed up to do was be arm candy for the night. Which is the only reason Bruce had ever agreed to it. Well, that and the fact that it makes the sort of money that could fund five new orphanages and still have enough left over for Jason’s ambitious child literature programme.

Which certainly doesn’t do much for Dick’s ego but then, even Dick can admit that’s a lost cause.

So Dick isn’t usually too worried about who the winner is. All he has to do is hang off their arm for a night, pull out chairs and offer his elbow to the elderly, high-society ladies that spend their money on this sort of thing. Field embarrassing compliments and the occasional, boundary-pushing grope.

Only, this time it’s: “Slade Wilson!”

Slade Wilson. Dick recognises the name, in a vaguely familiar way. He’s either one of Bruce Wayne’s insufferable high-society friends, like most of the people who win his hand at these silly auction events, or one of his business rivals looking for something to hold over Dick’s dad. Neither of those are unusual exactly, but...this is the first guy who’s ever won. As far as Dick is aware, the first guy who’s ever entered, and something about that makes Dick’s stomach flip strangely.

Then he sees him - a hulking figure moving through the crowd with the ease of someone who is used to having space made for him - and Dick’s stomach is definitely somersaulting now because, yeah, he does remember Slade. He remembers the awkward, _enormous_ crush he’d had on Bruce’s business rival when they’d first been introduced. Remembers the cool glint of the man’s single eye as he’d taken Dick in, young and awkward in the suit he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet.

They haven’t really interacted much beyond that first meeting when Dick had still been young enough to barely reach Slade’s chest, but Dick remembers the youthful attraction he’d felt back then. He can feel a blush rising on his cheeks, pooling hot beneath his skin. Usually Dick’s blushes aren’t too obvious with his darker complexion, but under the lights he feels exposed.

Beside him, Bruce shifts close enough to murmur into his ear, one broad hand resting on the small of his back. “You can always call it off, Dick. It’s just a bit of fun, you don’t owe Slade your time.”

Is his discomfort that obvious? Or is Bruce just bristling at the idea of his business rival winning rather than the usual harmless old lady? Not that those old ladies always are harmless. Dick has had to politely reinforce his boundaries on more than one occasion. 

“Exactly,” Dick says, keeping his voice carefully casual. “It’s a bit of fun. Nothing to worry about, B.”

“Hn.”

But Bruce relinquishes, stepping around Dick to meet Slade halfway, his hand already outstretched. Bruce has presented every prize for the gala auction but there’s definitely something a little comical about the idea of Bruce handing Dick over like this. Slade must think so too because Dick can see the amused twist of his mouth from where he’s standing.

“Congratulations,” Bruce says, stiffly. For a moment he doesn’t let go of Slade’s hand. It’s as obvious a power-play as Dick has ever seen. He almost rolls his eyes.

“Thank you,” Slade purrs, obviously enjoying himself. “I’ll take my prize now.”

Then he steps around Bruce, striding over to Dick in quick, confident steps. Once he’s closer, Dick finds he still has to crane his neck to meet Slade’s gaze, despite the height he’s gained since that first meeting. A strange, dark little thrill shoots through him at that.

“Well-“

Slade cuts him off with a hard kiss. 

Lips press roughly against Dick’s, forcing his words back down his throat. There’s the rough brush of Slade’s beard against his skin, the heat of Slade’s palms as he grips his arms. Dick is frozen in shock. All he can do is stand rigid in the other man’s arms. Vaguely, he’s aware of the noise of the crowd. Of Bruce somewhere behind them. But everything else is overtaken by the sensation of Slade against him. Of the tongue sliding over the seam of his mouth.

“Mr. Wilson!”

Slade pulls back with a smirk. Dick just gapes, speechless, as Bruce appears over Slade’s shoulder. “Yes?”

“It’s OK, B,” Dick cuts in, before Bruce can cause a scene - or more of a scene than has already been caused. “He was just joking.”

Only, Slade’s smirk suggests he wasn’t.

⁂

The rest of the gala is surprisingly uneventful. Slade keeps his hands to himself and, once Dick is past the awkward shock of that kiss, he finds himself genuinely enjoying the other man’s company. He’s funny in a dry, sarcastic way. And something about having the man beside him - tall and broad and _looming_ \- makes Dick feel strangely protected.

It isn’t until the night is drawing to a close, that Slade drops one broad hand to Dick’s thigh, leaning close to murmur into his ear.

“I have you for the night, don’t I?”

Dick flushes, heat flooding under his skin. The insinuation has him shivering in a way that all the gross, opportunistic groping and gauche comments from his usual winners never do. He laughs, awkwardly, feeling something spark to life low in his stomach. Every nerve in his body is alight with Slade’s proximity. The pressure of Slade’s hand on his thigh is sending electricity straight through him.

“Well, I’m yours for the rest of the gala.”

“Hmm.” The hand on Dick’s thigh slides a little higher, rucking up the soft material of his slacks. Dick’s breath catches in his throat at the promise there. “What about after the gala?”

“That’s not part of your prize.”

Slade leans close enough that Dick can feel his lips against his skin. The hand on his thigh slides high enough to layer over his lap, sending a shock of arousal straight through his gut. Dick gasps. Even though the gala is winding down, there are still plenty of people milling about. That shouldn’t turn him on, but it does.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Slade’s palm rolls over Dick’s cock and Dick goes rigid in his seat. There are people just feet away from them. It has adrenaline and arousal shooting through him in equal measure.”

“Yeah?” Is all Dick can manage.

“Yeah. Why don’t you spend the rest of the night with me?”

Dick can’t find it in himself to refuse.

⁂

When they get to his apartment, Slade actually holds the door open for him, which is just one more unbelievable thing in an already wild night. Dick can feel the heat of him as he passes, brushing his shoulder against Slade’s broad chest. The apartment beyond is big - not ostentatious, but rich in a way that’s immediately apparent. There’s a low cream sofa, a glass coffee table that probably costs more than most people make in a year, a fucking bar set against one of the walls, stocked with enough bottles to keep an alcoholic in drink for a lifetime.

Slade moves towards the bar as soon as the door shuts behind them, pulling out an expensive bottle of whiskey whilst Dick dithers on the rug. He sets two crystal glasses out before turning to throw a questioning look at Dick over his shoulder.

“Fancy a drink?”

Dick does. His throat has been painfully dry ever since that first breathless kiss up on the stage and he feels stiff and awkward in his suit. But he’s also in unfamiliar territory here. It’s not as if he’s never slept with anyone before - of course he has - but not like this, not with a man he barely knows, several years older than him, in an apartment he’s never been to before. And Dick trusts Slade, otherwise he never would have agreed to this, but it’s not a situation he needs to be any _more_ vulnerable in. The two glasses of champagne he’d had earlier that night are already buzzing under his skin.

“No, I’m good thanks.”

Slade just hums, sloshing a generous amount into his own glass but leaving Dick’s empty. Something about that eases a little of the tension in Dick’s chest - the easy acceptance. The fact that he hadn’t pushed. The tension in his gut doesn’t ease though, the tight knot of arousal that’s been sitting heavy in his stomach ever since Slade had first climbed on stage. It only fans a little hotter as Dick watches Slade toss the first drink back and pour himself another, the thick muscles of his shoulders shifting under his suit jacket.

When Slade finally turns, Dick jerks his gaze away like a naughty schoolboy caught doing something he shouldn’t. He’s still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He hasn’t felt this out-of-place in a long time and he doesn’t like it, but Slade has a way of making him feel small. Especially when he slides around behind Dick, trailing hot fingers across the small of his back before pulling away.

“C’mere,” Slade rumbles, low in his throat.

Dick shivers before glancing back over his shoulder, already missing the teasing touch. The older man has settled himself comfortably on the leather couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, glass held lightly in long fingers, heated gaze fixed on Dick.

Dick only hesitates for a moment before moving towards him, feeling self-conscious in a way he rarely has before. It’s not that Dick is full of himself, exactly, but he knows what most people see when they look at him. Knows how to use that.

But now the sway of his hips seems...over-exaggerated, childish. The only reason he doesn’t turn around and call the whole thing a day is the look on Slade’s face as he gets closer. The way his eye drags it’s way across Dick’s body. The way he shifts against the couch, legs shuffling a little wider as he leans forward. The growing smirk curving across his face.

Dick’s stomach does a strange little flip beneath the intensity of that gaze. He tries to hide it with his own smirk but, if the upward tick of his eyebrows are anything to go by, Slade can read everything on Dick’s face. He wonders if his arousal is as obvious as he thinks it is. If the hunger in his eyes matches Slade’s.

One big hand reaches out to grip Dick’s hip, tugging him between Slade’s spread legs with easy strength. Dick could resist it, if he wanted, but he lets Slade move him, settling a hand against one broad shoulder as Slade tilts his head up to meet his gaze.

“Look at you,” Slade breathes. 

The hand at Dick’s hip slides up his side, tugging his shirt up until the strip of skin above his trousers is exposed. Then Slade ducks his head to press warm lips above Dick’s hip.

Goosebumps prickle all the way across Dick’s stomach, tightening his skin with a delightful tingle. He can feel himself flushing pink at the compliment. The room feels suddenly too hot and Dick relinquishes his grip on Slade’s shoulder to shuck off his jacket before working fingers into the knot of his tie in an attempt to loosen it.

Slade cuts that short by fisting a hand in the length of silk and using the grip to tug him down, reaching up at the same time to press their mouths together.

Dick rocks forward at the pressure with a startled sound, his hand flying out to catch himself against the back of the couch, jerking one knee up to take his weight as he falls over Slade. Despite the sharp movement, Slade’s mouth is gentle as it meets Dick’s.

It’s different to the kiss they had shared up on stage. Softer. Less domineering. Up on one knee like this, it’s Dick who’s leaning over now, Slade who has to tilt his chin up to meet him. Slade’s lips are soft, the swipe of his tongue across the seam of Dick’s mouth is teasing rather than demanding. When Dick parts his lips on a gasp, Slade takes advantage, but the slide of their tongues against each other is mutual.

A small, helpless sound tries to climb up Dick’s throat. Everywhere that Slade is touching feels electrified, as if there’s some barely detectable current coursing between them at every point of contact. It makes Dick feel dizzy. Makes him feel as though he might float away, or maybe just slide straight off Slade’s lap if he doesn’t have something solid to cling to. With the hand not death-gripping the couch cushion, Dick cups the side of Slade’s neck, rubs his thumb over the hot skin there just to feel something real.

Slade groans and Dick feels the vibration of it where he’s pressed against Slade’s throat. Feels the frantic flutter of his pulse. Clearly he’s not the only one affected.

Something about that makes Dick feel a little steadier, a little braver. He shifts, not breaking the connection of their mouths even though it’s getting a little hard to breath, to pull his other leg up over Slade’s thick thigh until he’s straddling him, hovering over his lap.

Slade pulls away then, to fix Dick with a glittering, one-eyed stare. For a moment, Dick chases him, not wanting to relinquish the feeling of those lips against his. But Slade jerks the hand still fisted in Dick’s tie back over his shoulder and pulls him up short.

Dick chokes. The sudden constriction of his throat sends a rush of _something_ through him, although even he can’t tell if it’s arousal or fear - the intensity of it blends into one hot flash of sensation. Either way, it has his hips hitching without his permission, shunting forward in an attempt to rub himself against Slade.

Slade smiles, slow and self-satisfied, but he doesn’t relinquish his hold, even as Dick trembles, his back arched, robbed of the friction he’s desperately seeking. The hand not fisted in his tie reaches up to stroke across the delicate skin beneath Dick’s jaw. Dick presses his own thumb hard into the hollow of Slade’s throat in retaliation but the other man doesn’t even flinch.

“Too much?” Slade murmurs as Dick sucks in shallow breaths and Dick doesn’t know how to reply to that, doesn’t know if he _can_ beyond the strangled little noise that slips out.

He manages a weak growl as Slade’s thumb slides across his lower lip, dipping into the open seam of his mouth. When it presses against his tongue, Dick forgoes any chance of gasping even a sliver of air to close his lips around it and suck.

Heat flares up in Slade’s eye, his whole face shuttering with lust. Then he drops his hand, his thumb pulling free with a wet pop, to grasp Dick’s hip and haul him close, letting the end of the tie drop in the same moment as he surges forward to meet Dick half-way. Presses hot lips against the throb of Dick’s pulse.

The dual sensation of oxygen suddenly rushing back into his lungs and the firm, upward pressure of Slade’s hips finally meeting his, startle an embarrassing, animal noise out of Dick. Slade growls in response, rocking his hips up hard and Dick feels the sting of teeth beneath his jaw. He arches his neck a little, baring more of his skin to Slade’s searching mouth, gasping helplessly.

“Pretty boy,” Slade murmurs, mouthing wetly at Dick’s throat. 

He pulls Dick more firmly against him, guiding his hips so that each frantic thrust pushes Dick’s cock against the impressive erection distorting Slade’s pants. Dick shivers at the friction. White-hot pleasure crashes through him with each lazy roll of Slade’s hips. Then Slade works nimble fingers into the knot of Dick’s tie, working it loose before pulling the collar of his shirt open, rubbing over the pink flesh revealed.

“Get this off,” he growls, low and rough with lust, and Dick scrambles to obey.

His fingers are thick and unwieldy as he slides his tie free and drops it to the ground. Thicker still, as he fumbles with the buttons of his shirt. Slade doesn’t move to help him though, just watches with one dark eye as Dick struggles out of his shirt with none of his normal grace.

Once he’s finally free of it, Slade drags one broad hand up the bare skin of Dick’s back. Presses lightly between his shoulder blades to tilt him forward so Slade can press damp kisses to the jut of Dick’s collar bone. Dick shivers. The apartment is warm but he feels uncomfortably exposed, skin bared to the air and Slade’s heavy gaze whilst the other man is still fully clothed. And the hot puff of Slade’s breath against him, the slick slide of his tongue along the ridges of bone, the sharp pressure of his teeth and lower ache of bruises being sucked into his flesh, aren’t helping.

“Slade,” he moans and Slade answers him with a sharp nip of teeth and a sweeter roll of his hips.

“What do you want, little one?” 

Dick isn’t even sure. He knows he wants - he knows he _needs_. But what he needs isn’t something he can articulate, even in the fuzzy confines of his own brain.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, because Slade doesn’t wait for an answer, moving down Dick’s chest in a hot trail to catch one of Dick’s nipples between his teeth. It’s like a jolt of electricity straight to Dick’s cock. He gasps, hips jerking against Slade, his fingers flying to tangle in the older man’s silver hair. A hand cups his side. A thumb brushes over his other nipple in maddening contrast to the hot slide of tongue against the first. Dick can feel it stiffen under the ministrations, pebbling up with every soft brush, goosebumps tingling across his whole chest.

“You want me here?” Slade asks, barely more than a breath. When Dick moans, lower and louder than he was intending, pushing his chest back against Slade’s mouth, he gives an odd, kittenish lick to the rosy bud that has Dick shivering.

“Or here?”

The hand on Dick’s chest drops abruptly to his lap, forcing its way between them so Slade can layer his thumb against the hard line of Dick’s cock, fingers curling lower to cup the weight of Dick’s balls beneath that. Dick seizes at just that touch, his cock throbbing in the confines of his slacks, sticky precum wetting the insides of his boxers, moulding the fabric over the head of his dick.

Slade grins before sliding his hand further, pressing up between Dick’s cheeks. Even with all the fabric in between, the pressure feels startlingly intense. “Or here?”

An awful, wounded noise Dick didn’t even know he could make vibrates through his chest. Slade drops his head to press a soothing kiss to the hollow of Dick’s throat. Rubs the thumb not occupied with his cock across the muscle of Dick’s back as Dick’s ribs heave beneath his palm. 

Dick twists his hands tighter through the older man’s hair. “Please,” he manages, choked, _wrecked_ even though they’ve barely done anything yet.

The growl Slade lets loose is primal. He pulls his hand back, but only to tug at the fastening of Dick’s slacks, tearing them open with easy strength, sending the button skittering across the hardwood floor. Dick’s breath hitches at the barely restrained violence.

“Get these off too,” Slade snarls against his skin and Dick is up on his knees before he can finish getting the words out, only regretting the loss of contact for a moment before he’s shoving his slacks and boxers down his thighs.

There’s an awkward moment as Dick struggles to get them over his knees, leaning forward for leverage and pressing his forehead hard into Slade’s shoulder to keep his balance. Slade rubs his hands over Dick’s sides, his back, grips his hips, then slides them lower to palm over Dick’s ass. By the time Dick has relieved himself of his clothing, he’s flushed with more than just embarrassment. 

“God,” Slade murmurs. Uses his grip on Dick’s ass to haul him close. Dick shivers at the feeling of rough cloth against the inside of his thighs, the underside of his cock. He flushes all the hotter at the realisation that whilst Dick is fully naked, bared to Slade’s hungry gaze and the warm air of the room, Slade is still in his full suit and tie.

When Dick reaches for his tie though, Slade catches his wrist, pinning it to the inside of Dick’s thigh where it’s pressed against the older man’s hip. Dick squirms, pulling against his grip and his cock twitches when there’s absolutely no give. The hand on his wrist is like iron and Dick won’t deny that he’s into that - that the thought of Slade pinning him so thoroughly has his already aching cock throbbing.

“I think I’ll leave that on.”

“Slade,” Dick whines, pathetically. He doesn’t have the brain power to be embarrassed though. Doesn’t have the brain power to do much more than grab at Slade’s crotch with his free hand.

Slade doesn’t stop him this time, canting his hips up to meet Dick’s eager palm. The hand not gripping Dick’s wrist reaches up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him down into a hard kiss. Dick groans into Slade’s mouth, rubbing at the fabric of his pants. The sharp inhale of breath Slade offers in return is intoxicating. By the time Slade drops his hand to grip Dick’s cock, Dick is dizzy with need.

Long fingers stroke up the throbbing length of him and Dick jerks, gasps. It’s not like this is the first time Dick’s had someone else’s hand on him, but it feels like it could be. He feels...over sensitive. Raw. As if Slade’s hand is doing more than simply jerking him off. Slade circles the head of his cock lazily on every upstroke and the sharp rush of pleasure has Dick whining. His own hand is basically useless. He’s too out of his head to do much more than hold it still for Slade to hump against.

“Get on with it,” he finally manages, once Slade has kissed him breathless, aiming for a growl but definitely falling short. 

Slade smirks against his lips before pulling away, finally relinquishing Dick’s wrist to reach for the wooden end table set beside the sofa. Dick uses the freedom to run his hands over Slade’s chest, feeling the bunch of his muscles, wishing that the thin cloth of his shirt wasn’t in the way. When Slade straightens, a little bottle of lube and silvery foil packet held loosely in one hand, Dick can’t help but quirk an eyebrow.

“You keep lube in your sitting room?”

“And condoms,” Slade says, slicking up his fingers without preamble.

Despite his incredulity, Dick shivers at the sight. He shivers again when Slade meets his gaze, lips quirked in a sly smile, as he slides his fingers underneath Dick and presses them up between his cheeks.

“Are you complaining?”

Dick leans forward to press a sharp nip against Slade’s collarbone and Slade takes the opportunity to slip one finger in up to the knuckle.

Dick gasps, a sharp, ragged inhale. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, because Slade’s finger is wet enough that it slides in without much resistance, but the sudden breach startles him. He goes rigid, back arching. His hands fly to Slade’s shoulders and dig in. There’ll be bruises there in the morning.

“Fuck! Slade, give a guy some warning.”

Slade only hums, closing the space between them again to mouth at Dick’s neck where it’s exposed by the arch of his back. The finger inside Dick moves, stroking lightly at his inner walls before pulling back and pressing in again. It’s...pleasurable in a distant way. Not the same white-hot spark as the hand on his cock. Dick rocks against it anyway, feels his stomach clench as his cock rubs against Slade’s cotton-covered abs on every shift of his hips.

Another finger strokes over the furled muscle of his entrance, slick and warm. Dick groans, working his hips against it until it slips in too. The stretch still doesn’t hurt. It...burns a little, but in the same way the heat in his belly is burning, a low, flickering flame.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Slade murmurs. But he keeps working his fingers, pressing damp kisses into Dick’s skin.

Dick shudders in his lap, letting his head fall back further as Slade’s mouth spans over his Adam’s apple. The wrist under him twists, fingers crooking, _searching_. Dick shimmys, trying to match the movement and… _there_. Stars burst behind Dick’s eyes. His fingers tighten so hard they creak and Slade groans at the pressure. Presses his fingers again over the spot that sends electricity shooting up Dick’s spine. It’s liquid pleasure, rolling over his skin in languid waves with every stroke of Slade’s fingers.

“Oh,” is all Dick can manage. Each breath feels like he’s sucking in treacle. Every drive of Slade’s fingers punches the air right out of him.

“Oh, God.”

Another finger teases at the tight rim of muscle. This time it does hurt a little when Slade presses it in, but Dick is distracted from the burn by the return of Slade’s other hand to his cock. It forces a groan out of him, low and guttural. He feels wild, out of control. Every nerve in his body is sparking with desire, with _need_.

“Slade,” he gasps and keeps gasping as the other man growls, not letting up his assault for a second. “Slade, for God’s sake. _Please_.”

Because Slade’s fingers are nice - more than nice - but Dick needs _more_ , needs the promise of Slade’s thick cock that he had felt under his palm. Just the thought of it has him shivering. Has his insides throbbing with desire. Dick forces his fingers to release their grip, moving instead to fumble at Slade’s zipper. Slade doesn’t move to stop him or help him, just pumps his fingers methodically in and out of Dick’s body, making Dick’s job harder with every slick press against his prostate.

Finally, Dick has flesh in his hand, warm and velvety smooth against his palm. Slade grunts, a sharp noise of pleasure. The sound has Dick tightening his grip and, _God_ , Slade is big, thick in the circle of Dick’s fingers and, when Dick draws his hand up the length of it, long too. Slade’s hips twitch. Dick ducks his head to press their mouths together again, sliding his tongue lazily across Slade’s as he reaches with his free hand for the condom the older man had abandoned earlier.

He has to break that connection to lift the little foil packet to his mouth and tear it open with his teeth, not wanting to still the movement of his other hand. It must do something for Slade because he inhales shallowly, his gaze dark as he watches Dick and the hand on Dick’s cock falters, fingers tightening in a way that has Dick’s hips bucking.

Dick slides the condom on without preamble, giving Slade a few more languorous strokes before shifting his hips as best he can beneath Slade’s ministrations to hover over the older man’s lap. Slade tilts his head up but doesn’t remove his fingers.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

Dick huffs because this is as much for Slade as it is for him and it grates at him to be manipulated. Still: “You.”

A hum. “Not good enough, Dickie. I want to hear you say it.”

Of course he does. Dick stifles another huff by pressing a wet kiss to the corner of Slade’s jaw. Ghosts his mouth across Slade’s as he whispers, “I want you to fuck me.”

The fingers pull out so fast that it leaves him dizzy. Then Slade is gripping his hips tight enough to bruise, a sweet, low ache, dragging Dick into position. He can feel the hot tip of Slade against his entrance, wet with lube.

Dick groans and presses his hips down, rocking into Slade’s lap. The fat head of Slade’s cock catches against his entrance, pressing with insistent pressure on every downward roll of his hips. Beneath him, Slade grunts. His fingers are so tight against Dick’s skin that it hurts - physical evidence of his control.

Then, finally, Dick sinks down in one smooth movement, letting gravity do most of the work, rolling his hips to take the entire, sinful length. It’s _big_ , pressing up against every intimate inch of Dick’s insides, filling him so completely he swears he feels it in his throat. It takes his breath away. It hurts, a little, an overwhelming stretch. Punches a small, wounded sound out of his chest.

Slade makes a soft, soothing sound, but Dick can feel his fingers trembling. Can feel the barely restrained desire as Slade holds himself back, letting Dick adjust to the intrusion. Dick just pants, shifting slightly against his lap but not truly moving. Then one of Slade’s hands drops to Dick’s cock, stroking him firmly and Dick can feel himself clench at the rush of pleasure. Feels the answering twitch of Slade’s length deep inside him.

“Fuck,” Slade growls, muffling the word against Dick’s throat. 

It has Dick shivering, gasping. He rocks forward into Slade’s fist. Lifts himself up with trembling thighs and drops himself back down again in one smooth motion. Slade lets go of his hip to run a warm palm over Dick’s ribs, thumbing over a nipple, sending more sparks of electricity across Dick’s skin. Everything feels like too much and not enough at the same time - Slade’s hands on his chest, on his _cock_ , the thick strain of Slade inside of him, the low ache of the bruises Slade is sucking into his throat and the sharper burn of his muscles as he settles into a quick rhythm. Every downward roll of his hips presses Slade against that sweet spot inside Dick. Pours pleasure down his spine, hot and liquid.

“God,” Slade grunts, his hips twitching to meet Dick’s as he thrusts down against him. “Stunning. God, you’re stunning.”

The compliment floods Dick with heat, a bright red flush that he can feel beneath his skin. His hips stutter as he loses his rhythm. Then Slade’s hands are gripping his thighs, lifting him up with such easy strength that Dick loses his breath, before slamming him back down hard enough to rattle his brain in his skull. There’ll be bruises on his legs later but Dick can’t find it in him to care. Can’t think about anything but the immediate pleasure of Slade moving inside of him.

It only takes a few more powerful thrusts before Dick feels his orgasm building inside him, prickling over his skin from his head right down to his toes, pooling hot and heavy in his gut. He can feel his balls tightening, his cock twitching with every brush against Slade’s hard abs. He’s leaking enough precum that the cotton of Slade’s shirt is wet. He can’t stop moaning, louder than he’s ever been, punched out of him with every thrust.

“You close?” Slade asks and his voice is so low and rough with lust that Dick shivers.

“Yeah. Fuck - yeah - I -“

Dick cuts off with a strangled sound as Slade’s hand returns to his cock. It only takes one firm stroke, one perfectly angled thrust, to have Dick seizing, his whole body going rigid as he spurts over Slade’s fingers, soiling his shirt. It’s one of the strongest orgasms he’s ever had, every muscle tight with pleasure, clenching rhythmically around Slade, and it seems to last forever. All Dick can do is gasp, curling over Slade’s arm, trembling in his lap.

Slade grips his hip hard enough that Dick swears he hears his knuckles creak, stroking Dick through the last of his orgasm even as he keeps moving, humping against Dick in hard, frantic little thrusts. It’s just edging on painful when Slade finally comes. He grinds into Dick, hips hitching even though he’s buried as deep as anyone has ever been. Presses his teeth hard into Dick’s shoulder, groaning low in his throat as he stiffens and comes.

Dick strokes over the back of Slade’s neck, tunnels his fingers through his hair, touches the ridge of his brow, his jaw. Slade releases Dick’s flesh, pressing his forehead into Dick’s sweaty chest instead. Dick wonders if he can hear the rabbiting of his pulse over the roar of both of their heavy breaths.

“Damn kid,” Slade huffs. Then he lifts Dick easily, slipping out of his still-clenching hole, to settle him against his thighs. “That was fucking something.”

There aren’t any words in Dick’s head. He feels utterly wrung out. Pleasantly used. All he can manage is leaning forward to press their mouths together again in a lazy, sated kiss.

He’s never had a gala night finish quite like this.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> I have a tumblr at [bearly-writing](https://bearly-writing.tumblr.com/) if you fancy dropping by for a chat!


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